The Red Wolf's Prize (13 page)

Her eyes slid to the dark thatch of hair at his groin and to
his large manhood.

“If you keep staring at me like that I will find myself in
trouble with the king.”

Embarrassed that he had caught her staring, Serena’s cheeks
burned.

“’Twould be best if you dress quickly and join me below. It
is time my men met their lady.”

Once he was dressed, he left, the door closing behind him.

Serena lay back against the pillow, thinking of all that had
happened. There had been no words between them after they had returned to the
manor the evening before. Her last memories were of his harsh words on the ride
home and his instructions to Maggie. But his kiss on her forehead a few moments
before had been tender. Did he assume she was now resigned to being his bride?

Was she?

Twice she had tried to escape. Twice she had failed. She had
fought her attraction to him as the servant girl Sarah, but in that, too, she
had not succeeded. She might fight him still if it would change her fate or
that of her people. Sadly, she believed it would not. Thoughts of Steinar filled
her mind. Was he still in Scotland? Though she was reluctant to admit it, she
had little desire to flee again. She had shouted her hatred of the Norman
knight, but even in that she had not been sincere. He had raised a desire
within her no other man had. No man had ever touched her the way he did, and
caused her to want him. As a Norman he might repulse her, but as a man he
entranced her. Even as she had ridden from Talisand, she had missed him. When
he had discovered her in the woods, a part of her had been relieved the ruse
was over.

The Red Wolf had ordered a guard at her door, so little was
his trust of her. No longer the maid Sarah or the thegn’s daughter, she
belonged to the Norman knight. Yet neither fully trusted the other. She
reminded herself of her new resolve. For the sake of her people, she would take
her place at his side. He was right when he said not only her country had been
conquered, but that she had been conquered. Conflicting emotions warred within
her. She was the proud daughter of a thegn, and only reluctantly did she accept
her fate as the wife of the powerful Red Wolf.

Serena slowly climbed from the bed, and reached for her robe
lying at the foot of the bed. Once she was sufficiently covered, she returned
to her chamber, hugging the wall of the corridor so that none below could see
her. She could hear the knights speaking, their murmurs loud enough to reach
her. They seemed excited about something, mayhap the messenger who had come
from their king.

She opened the door to her chamber to find Cassie waiting.

“M’lady!” The handmaiden ran to Serena and embraced her. “Me
mother told me last night ye were brought back by the Red Wolf. He has sent me
to help dress ye, and not, as ye might imagine, in the clothes of a servant. He
asks ye to wear the gowns of yer station as the Lady of Talisand.”

Serena sank onto the edge of her bed, twining her fingers
through her now flaxen tresses. “Yea, ’tis nay something I can escape this
time.”

“Did he hurt ye, m’lady?” Cassie asked with a worried look as
her gaze roamed over Serena.

“Nay.” At Cassie’s surprised expression, Serena added, “I
did not wake when he carried me to his chamber last night. We shared a bed but
naught more. He was likely as drained of strength as was I. Sir Geoffroi
awakened us both. I do not doubt the Red Wolf would have done more but for the
messenger. He said as much.”

“Yea, a messenger arrived from the Norman king. Sir Maurin
and the others were called together as I was coming up for ye. Ye’d best dress,
m’lady. Something is afoot.”

Serena rose. “This time I must face them as the thegn’s
daughter.”

Her handmaiden smiled. “Come, let us show the Red Wolf’s men
the real Lady of Talisand.” Pride gleamed in Cassie’s green eyes. “I think the
purple gown of fine wool, embroidered with the golden silk thread yer father
gave ye, would be fitting. ’Tis nearly the color of yer eyes.”

Serena washed her face and slipped on her linen undertunic,
happy to have the fine cloth next to her body once again. Cassie lifted the
elegant gown over Serena’s head and let it fall in soft folds about her. Her
handmaiden pulled the lacings tight so that the gown hugged her slender form.
Brushing her hair ’til it shown like moonlight, Cassie sat back with admiring
eyes and then began to braid it.

“Nay, Cassie. This day I will wear my hair unbound and
uncovered. It may well be the last time.”

“Then let me secure it with the circlet yer father gave ye.”

Cassie opened the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled
from it the precious circlet of silver woven with intricate gold leaves and set
with amethyst stones.

Standing back, the handmaiden smiled. “Now ye look like
yerself, m’lady. Willna all of Talisand be happy to see such a grand sight?”

“In truth, I cannot say. It is not what I wanted, Cassie,
but it might be for the best. If it is my fate to serve the people at the
Norman’s side, so be it. It is my fervent hope I can help him understand their
needs.”

“Ye can lift yer head high, m’lady. Never forget ye are a
powerful thegn’s daughter.”

“I never shall.” She hugged her childhood friend,
straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. It was time to greet the Red
Wolf and his men.

Standing in the manor’s entry, Renaud crumpled the parchment
in his hand and exchanged a look with Sir Maurin. “William’s summons comes at
an inconvenient time, but our sire has need of us, so we must go.” He shifted
his gaze to the young messenger dressed in the king’s livery. “Get some food
and then be on your way. You may tell the king the Red Wolf rides this day to
join him.”

The messenger bowed, then headed toward the kitchen. Flanked
by Geoff and Sir Maurin, Renaud stood watching his men breaking their fast,
wondering what he should tell them.

“Where are we bound, Ren?” asked Geoff.

“To Exeter. It seems Gytha, mother of the dead Harold, has
stirred the city to resist William’s increase in annual tribute and his demand
for fealty. He has marched on the city intending to lay siege and summons me to
add my men to his army.”

“I’ll ready the men,” Geoff said solemnly, and together with
Sir Maurin, turned toward the hall.

Renaud reached his hand to Geoff’s arm to stop him, but
allowed Sir Maurin to continue on his way. “I will address the men, Geoff.
There is Talisand to see to as we may be away for some time.”

Renaud stepped to the large doorway leading into the hall.
His presence silenced the men’s conversations as all eyes turned toward him. In
addition to his knights and retainers, there were a number of Talisand’s men in
the hall. The Welsh bard, Rhodri stood to one side looking on with furrowed
brows.

“The king has summoned us to join him in the south for a
siege,” he announced.

The men cheered.

When they quieted, he continued. “Knights and archers be
prepared to ride at the sixth hour.” Nodding heads and smiles on the faces of
his men displayed their approval of the new orders. “Sir Maurin will remain
here with enough men to defend the manor and village. Now that I have chosen a
site for the castle, and the plans are drawn, the building will proceed apace
with Sir Maurin as overseer in my absence. Talisand’s men and the carpenters we
brought with us will see the task done.”

Sir Maurin nodded from where he stood amidst the others, and
Renaud was reminded he must speak to the knight about the guard he had
appointed for his errant bride.

As Renaud gave further instructions for their travel to
Exeter, the continued smiles on the faces before him made clear his men were
eager for battle. It was what they had trained for, and the past months had
shown them little action.

In the midst of the men’s murmurs, all sounds suddenly died
away and the eyes of his knights fixed on a point behind him as they rose from
their seats.

Renaud sensed her presence even before he turned.

Serena.

No longer dressed as a servant, his bride stood adorned like
a queen. Stunned by her beauty, his eyes took in the elegant purple gown that
hugged her curves not revealed by the servant’s attire she had worn before.

A fitting mate indeed.

Her unplaited flaxen hair, crowned by a silver and gold
circlet, announced to all she was a maiden still, making him regret again that
the king’s summons that had forced him from his bed.

Stepping aside, he gestured her forward. As she approached,
there were gasps from some of his men who, looking more closely, realized for
the first time who the servant girl Sarah really was.

She stood proudly, her violet eyes shining with a light of
determination.

“Good knights and men of Talisand,” Renaud said loudly,
first in Norman French and then in English, “I give you my lady, Serena of Talisand.”
For a moment the hall was silent. Then his knights dropped to one knee, each
bringing his fist to his heart, silently pledging fealty and protection to the
woman who was to be their lord’s wife.

Serena stood for a moment, her eyes traveling over his men,
a slight smile on her lips. Then, to his great surprise, she spoke in perfect
Norman French.

“I thank you for your obeisance. But lest you believe
otherwise, know this: Talisand is the rich
demesne
you see today because
of the foresight and wisdom of an English thegn, my father, Sigmund. I would
ask that you respect his memory and treat well the people of Talisand he loved,
for they have lost much and I would restore it to them if I could.”

She paused for a moment and then stepped back into the manor’s
entry, and smiled at him briefly before saying, “My lord,” and hastening
through the door to the yard that Sir Niel held open for her. The knight nodded
to Renaud and followed after her.

Renaud faced his men, his knights having risen from their
knees to stand.

“Heed my lady’s words. I would have no disparagement of the
old lord. He is the grandsire of the sons Lady Serena will one day give me.”

To Renaud’s ear came the sound of a loud cheer from the yard
outside. He turned and strode to the front door. The yard was bathed in
sunlight. Serena, her back to him, stood before a large gathering of English
men and women. Unwilling to interfere, he waited, wondering what she would say.

She raised her hands to still their murmured praises.

“Good people of Talisand, I am once again among you as your
lady.” A cheer rose up from the crowd. It seemed to Renaud this was no
conquered English maiden. More like a queen returning from a forced absence to
greet her subjects.

“I seek only to serve you and to help ease the pain of your
loss—the husbands, fathers and sons who are gone from us forever—and the
independence my father had granted you. Though we have lost much, we must thank
the Master of the Heavens for what we still have and for the coming harvest. I
thank you, as well, for your loyalty, your protection and your many
kindnesses.”

Renaud was pleased to hear her gracious words. Though he was
angered at her deception, to his ears she sounded resigned to her role as his
countess. He could only hope it was so. Walking forward, he wrapped his arm
around her shoulder, claiming her before the people. She stiffened slightly but
did not pull away. Mayhap if he were gracious, he could end the acrimony
between them.

Speaking to those gathered, he said, “I have told my men
that Serena is my lady and soon, my wife and countess. They are to respect her
as such. May we all prosper because she is returned to you.” The people
listened, but remained silent at his words. To them he was still the foreign
invader. Then, too, some would be called to battle this very day at his orders.
But before they left, he would have them know he respected their lady.

Renaud faced Serena and spoke in a softer voice for her ears
alone. “Join me at my table for the morning meal, my lady, and then I must depart
to join William.”

“You go to fight again?” she asked anxiously.

He hoped it was worry he saw in her beautiful eyes yet he
dared not believe she might truly care about the husband forced upon her. There
was passion between them, he knew that well, yet he was still the Norman who
had claimed her lands. “Yea, I go to Exeter in Devon.”

Frowning, she said, “Gytha, the queen mother lives there.”

“She is no longer the mother of a king, Serena, and because
she has stirred the men of the city to rise against William, they will once
again know his wrath.”

Serena looked down, but he doubted it was in resignation.

In a subdued voice, she said, “Four of Gytha’s eight
children died the year your king claimed England; she lost three sons at
Hastings alone.”

“And the other—Tostig—was a brother of treachery.”

“Yea,” she said raising her head and staring into his eyes,
“he fought his brother Harold and fell at Stamford Bridge. So did Ulrich,
husband of Lady Eawyn, who fought against the invader from Norway. But after
Hastings, Gytha pleaded with your William for the body of her son Harold. The
Norman king rejected her plea. Is it not understandable she should inspire the
Saxons to rise against a man who would deny a Christian burial to their king?”

“It is the way of war, my lady. William had his reasons. But
one day the fighting will end. You must look forward to that day, as I do.” How
he longed for the day when he could be concerned only with his lands, his lady
and his sons, and claim the peace so long denied him. Yet he feared he would
never know that peace.

“
Will
the fighting end?” she asked. “I wonder. Your
king is still challenged by many. And do not forget that Edgar Ætheling, the
Saxon who would sit on the English throne, is now safely ensconced in Scotland
with my brother.”

He had not known that Steinar was with Edgar Ætheling, the
young English contender for the throne, but it made sense. “I have not
forgotten where your loyalties lie, my lady.” Renaud was unhappy to be reminded
that the woman he would take to wife was not loyal to William. But he had no
desire to argue with her just before he rode to battle. “Come,” he said as he
led her inside the manor, the people having dispersed, “I would share a meal
with you, Serena, lest we argue ere I ride, mayhap to my death.” Serena placed
her hand on his offered arm and another question occurred to him. “Would you
mourn the loss of your future husband?”

* * *

Still pondering his question, Serena took her place at the
Red Wolf’s table for the first time since the Normans had come. She sat on his
right, Sir Geoffroi on his left and Maugris on her other side. Though there was
still much activity in the hall, some of the men had already left, presumably
to prepare for their soon departure. Rhodri looked at her from where he sat at
one of the long tables, a question in his eyes. She knew he wondered if this
had truly been her decision or if she had been forced. The Welshman and Steinar
were close, and to her, Rhodri wore the look her brother would have worn had he
been here. A look of incredulity. How could she agree to wed a Norman?

Staring at the trencher she shared with the Red Wolf, she
took a bite of the brown bread spread with butter and then a piece of the
cooked white fish taken from the river that ran next to the manor. Wild
strawberries were piled high in a small bowl set to one side.

She picked up a berry, the color of fresh blood, and worried
it in her fingers. Would it matter if the Red Wolf were slain in this battle he
was called to by his king? Her anger still burned for the Norman who called
himself England’s ruler, the one who had robbed her of her father, but no
matter her words the day before, she could not bring herself to hate the knight
who would take her to wife. She would miss him were he to be slain. And, if he
were killed, the Norman king would only force her to wed another of his men,
one she might like less well than the Red Wolf.

“I would see you return from Exeter, my lord.”

He studied her face. “You tarried long in coming to that
answer, my lady.”

She looked into his gray eyes framed by the thick russet
waves of his hair. Was it concern she saw in them? He was a handsome knight,
she had to admit, and though oft stern, an honorable one. If she were honest
with herself, she would have to acknowledge she cared for him.

“I had much to ponder, my lord. But when the time comes for
you to leave, know that I will wish you Godspeed.”

He smiled and reached for the goblet of ale set between
them, taking a long draw. “For that I am grateful, my lady. Hopefully I shall
not tarry long in the south. While I am gone, you can prepare for our wedding
feast.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Ah, the obedient Lady of Talisand. I wonder if this change
is to be believed.”

Serena said nothing. She wondered herself.

“I hope it is,” he said, studying her somber face.
“Meanwhile, when I return, the castle should be well underway. I have chosen
the site next to the manor. What think you of that? It will mean we can
incorporate the existing structures into the larger bailey.”

“It pleases me, my lord. I would like to retain what has
been my home.”

“I thought you might,” he said, mirth reflected in his
sparkling gray eyes.

Now that he’d found her and she had agreed to become his
wife, he seemed to have softened toward her, evidenced by the new light in his
eyes. “You did it for me?” She had never considered the possibility he took her
desires into account, particularly when at the time he made those plans he
thought the Lady Serena was in Scotland.

“I had to consider a place that could be defended, of
course, but your father had obviously chosen well, locating the manor in the
bend of the river as he did. It made sense to follow his lead. I also believed
Lady Serena would want her home to be part of the castle grounds.”

“I thank you,” she said, taking a drink of ale from the cup
he passed her. “It will please the people as it pleases me.”

* * *

Aethel brushed her long dark plait over her shoulder and
picked up the pitcher. Slowly she walked toward the kitchen. The knight’s eyes
followed her from the corner of the hall where he stood leaning against the
wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Sir Alain
de Roux, the
largest of the Norman knights, the one who carried the Red Wolf’s banner, was
staring at her as he often did. There were other men who looked at her, but his
intense perusal was different. More possessive somehow.

She had been with no man since the old thegn died, having
been rejected by the new lord. And she wanted none. So, she ignored them all.
Still, the big knight intrigued her, his penetrating gaze following her about
the hall as she served the evening meal. Was it lust she saw in his eyes or
something else? Something more?

He walked slowly toward her and her pulse sped. The man
rarely said much, even to the other knights, so she was surprised when he came
to stand before her and leaned in to whisper in English, “You are better than
what you think of yourself, Aethel.”